


Man-Eater

by Mcwarr



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dangerous Harry, Dark Harry, Fluff, Harmless Niall, Innocent Niall, Kidnapping, M/M, Scary Harry, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcwarr/pseuds/Mcwarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a group of survivors learns-- don't mess with Harry Styles' things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man-Eater

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a prompt to my tumblr: narrystoranwritings.tumblr.com

“Unless you want yourself and your entire little posse to be dead within the next two minutes, I would put the gun down.” A gravely, harsh voice of death pierces the once tranquil air of the forest. In an instant, the group of two men, two women and one bruised boy turns on their heels. 

Fear is imminent in their eyes. It had been so ever since the first time the captive boy had muttered the name _Harry Styles_. Televisions and radios may not work anymore, but word still got around quickly. When you mess with Harry Styles, you don’t recover. 

The ragtag group of survivors look on shakily as they face the hard-pressed, terrifying man himself. Black bandana tight around his head, pushing dirty, overgrown hair– hair that must’ve once been beautifully luscious and perfectly styled– up and out of his dark green, haunted eyes as they stared back at the group, a sinister, almost teasing smirk on his face. 

They were scared. 

He was dirty looking, of course, they all were. His black shirt’s sleeves had been ripped off long ago, shoving off ripped biceps that probably weren’t there 5 years ago when the world went to shit. He’s boyish looking even in his horror-movie aura. They boy’s– because really, he is just a boy, only 18 when the whole thing started– brown boots are battered and grungy, but thick nevertheless, army make. Blood and bits of skin teetering off of the steel toecap, testament to the multitudes of skulls he’s kicked in; alive and otherwise. 

He’s not alone. He usually never is. The opposing group has only heard stories of the Styles crew, but the descriptions weren’t too far-fetched when the pegged the members as “ruthless, deadly, and more than happy to kill.” 

“We.. we aren’t looking for any trouble.” The group leader, a middle-aged man named Ty, attempts. Really, they thought the kid was stealing from them, what were they supposed to do?

Looking back at the boy, Ty probably should’ve known better than to keep him from leaving. The blonde, innocent looking kid did warn them. Especially after Walt had gotten angry and gave him a nice purple-black bruise under his left eye. He winces as he sees the boy shaking his head at Ty, almost like a sign of defeat, like he knows what the outcome is going to be. 

Walt’s gun– the one Harry was referring to earlier– doesn’t move. Aside from the barely noticeable amount of shaking it’s doing, Walt doesn’t drop the gun. 

“Your friend doesn’t seem to agree with that sentiment.” He murmurs articulately, and Ty wonders why no one’s ever mentioned the fact that he has a British accent.

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut that tells him it’s because those who hear it– they don’t get to live to tell the tale. 

Ty puts his hands up in surrender, placatingly. He turns to the side, still keeping an eye on Styles as he mutters warningly, “Walt, don’t do this. We just want to go on our own way. You can have your kid, no problem.”

Walt narrows his eyes, stepping forward, closer to the blonde kid, his gun bumping the back of the now worried looking boy. 

Harry’s facade doesn’t change, he simply takes a step forward as well, arm moving to his back where he grabs a crossbow, something that the stories told as well. There was never a confirmed attack from the Styles group unless there was at least one arrow lodged into someone’s skull. 

“You really, really don’t want to play this game with me, _Walt_.” He says lowly, a dangerous tint to his voice that will forever ring in Ty’s ears. 

There are moans and soft gurgles coming from somewhere over the hill, and the air becomes unsettling. Shuffling feet and crackling leaves are coming from every which direction, but the several torch lights only cover the small vicinity in which they are– not anywhere near the real dangers beyond the trees. Night is quickly approaching and they all knew what came hand-in-hand with the darkness. 

The two women from Ty’s group, one Ty’s wife and the other Walt’s, watch on with nothing but electric fear in their eyes. It’s granted, understandable, as this is one of the worst situations one could be in. 

Harry’s group looks a bit differently, one man with bright, insane blue eyes, playfully sharpening his knife against another, and another taking a leisurely drag from a cigarette as he nonchalantly stabbed leaves in the ground with massive sword– properly called a katana. Lastly in the group was another man, one that had the same boyish features that the rest of them did, methodically scratched his beard as he lazily tapped against a gun strapped to his belt. 

Looking back at his wife apologetically, it seems to be clear how this will end. Especially if Walt continues with his bullshit. “I want to know,” The idiot growls as if he has all the power in the world, “why this little twerp was in our camp last night.” He demands, hand tightening around the kids throat and gun still pressing harshly against his bleach-blonde hair. 

Harry didn’t like that. 

The playful smirk was gone and Ty knew that the game was over. Harry is two more steps forward and suddenly, Walt seems to understand his predicament. 

“You… you better stay back, now, or I’ll.. I’ll blow his brains out!” Walt shouts, backing up more and bringing the blonde with him. The kid has yet to say a single thing and surprisingly enough, he isn’t crying. 

He was crying his little eyes out the night before, locked in a shed near their camp. The women, especially hated it, but Walt deemed it necessary as they didn’t know what the kid was capable of. 

Now, Ty could see that the kid was still scared, obviously, anyone with a gun to their head is bound to be a bit uneasy. But there’s a trust and an understanding in his eyes that’s convincing the older group leader just how screwed they really are. Harry’s eyes are tight now, just like his grip on his crossbow. 

Another step forward. “You’ve heard the stories about us, Walt, I’m sure. People who steal from us,” He takes a step forward, “people who hurt our own,” Another menacing step froward, “and those things that aren’t really people at all… none of them survive us, Walt.” Harry informs, stepping so close that he could easily grab the blonde up and just take him away. But he wouldn’t do that.

Walt’s shaking hand is now reinforced ten-fold. He knows he’s made a mistake. 

“And you, Walt. Not only did you try and steal from me, you also hurt one of our own. All that’s left is the final…” Harry trails off, waiting for what he knows will come. 

Walt breaks, dropping the gun as if that would fix the entire situation. Ty watches as the kid runs, past Harry and into the arms of the one with the katana, who embraces him like a mother bear, checking over his bruise and then holding him close to his chest, directing his face away from Harry.

Ty watches as Walt tries, in a last-ditch effort to pull a gun on Harry, but he has no time.

He understands what’s about to happen.

Ty watches as Harry brings one, dirtied steel toecap and forcefully kicks the older man into the awaiting jaws of a *walker. 

* * * *

Stepping over a bloody, disemboweled arm, Niall rushes as quickly as he can into Harry’s arms. There’s a bit of blood on his face and hands, but it’s nothing Niall isn’t used to. A few tears leave the blonde’s eyes as he repeatedly apologizes over and over again, whimpering, “Harry, Harry, I’m so so sorry, Harry, I’ll never do anything that stupid again, I swear Harry I just wanted to help, I love you so much.” He cries, savoring in Harry’s affection as the brunette comforts him, rubbing his lower back lovingly and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. 

“I love you too, Ni. It’s okay, none of us are mad at you, just… we’ll talk about your punishment later.” He rectifies, and Niall nods in agreement, holding on to his boyfriends hand with all of his might. “Let’s get back, walkers are everywhere and we need to get Ni some food.” 

Louis, Zayn, and Liam each nod in agreement, cleaning their weapons off briefly in the already blood-soaked grass. 

* * * *

“Did we really have to kill all of them?” Niall asks as they get closer to home.

Harry’s grip tightens around the young, innocent kid he had found just 3 years ago. How he had survived till then, nobody knew. “Of course we had to, Niall. Remember our talk on people and how they’re not always good like us?” 

“Yeah, but only one of them was really mean to me.” Nialll murmured and Harry stopped, taking Niall’s chin with one of his large, calloused hands, making the blue-eyed boy look him in the eyes. 

“Niall, do you know what I would do if someone ever hurt you?” Harry asks genuinely and Niall shivers at the thought. 

He grips Harry’s waist tightly as he whispers, “You always say that you’d ‘fucking murder them and anyone they loved,’ right?” 

Harry grins, poking Nail’s nose. “Don’t say those words, darling, but yes. I’d fucking murder them and anyone they ever loved, or liked, or ever came into contact with. So, can’t you see, Ni? We had to kill that bad man, yes? So he didn’t ever hurt anyone again?” Harry chides, encouraging Niall to reply.

The blonde nods simply, allowing Harry to continue to lead him back to camp. “So, don’t you think his friends would feel the same about him as we do about you? When someone hurts their friend, don’t you think they’d try to hurt us?” Harry asks and Niall’s mouth forms into an ‘O’ shape, showing he understood.

“So if we didn’t kill them… they’d kill us.” Niall finishes, adding, “I guess it was necessary, then. Thank you for saving me, Hazzy.” He smiles up at Harry, pecking the brunette’s cheek sweetly.

Harry nods with a smile, allowing the boy to believe his own conclusions. 

The less Niall knew, the better. 

* * * *

Soon enough, they arrive back to their camp, a nice, overly protected yet somewhat deteriorating country-inn. They had gotten lucky, what with the relatively easy food supply and comfortable, safe rooms but there’s a lot of dangers that come with camping in a big, visible, and alluring place that looks promising to everyone that comes across it. Raids, thieves and looters were not unusual. 

Luckily enough, after a couple of years of living in the same place, killing anyone/thing that comes their way without remorse. 

Walkers were scary, sure, but people… people were the ones to worry about. 

It’s easy to stab a zombie in the brain and watch the already lifeless body go to rest, but people were harder. 

People would scream and beg and cry and plead and people didn’t always try to fight back. 

But not to worry, after the first few, you learn to stop caring that you can literally see the life drain from someone’s eyes. You stop caring that all of someone’s hopes and dreams have suddenly been vanquished and seized from them without a single warning. You stop seeing people as people and simply see them as monsters, much like the ones crawling around outside, ready to steal, rape, and/or kill everyone you love. 

People are worse than walkers. 

Harry learned that the hard way.

* * * *

Once they get through all of the precautionary measures (barbed wire over a perimeter fence and several “conveniently” placed bear traps) that were taken long ago to take out any raiders that attempt to get in while they’re away. 

Looking around at the few bodies scattered around the lot, impaled on the barbed wire or prone with a knife through their heart, Harry makes a mental note to get someone to clean them out before they have another walker problem. 

Niall’s still tucked safely under Harry’s arm, looking tired and hungry and dead on his feet. Zayn helps Liam open the door and then once again seal it after the boys all get through. 

Once the doors are closed the personas drop. 

They all shrug off their bigger weapons at the door, not loosing their handheld guns, strapped-knifes, or any of their other miscellaneous weapons.

Louis jumps on Niall, ruffling his hair violently. “I’m glad you’re okay, Nialler.” He says, playfully hugging the boy tightly after thoroughly ruined his (already ruined) hair. 

Liam goes next, hugging the boy tightly in another embrace and whispering something along the lines of, “you’re an idiot, never do that again.” and rushing off to go start making something for him to eat. 

Zayn had already had his Nialler time but still walked over, pressed a kiss to his forehead and gave him an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow at Harry. “You’re gonna get punished bad, Niall.” He murmurs and Niall sighs, shrugging. “Honestly, babe, should’ve seen Harry when he found out where you were.” Zayn says, making Harry narrow his eyes accordingly. Zayn, maybe the only one who will ever defy Harry smirks. “It was hilarious. Still ,good luck sitting tomorrow.” He shrugs, making Louis laugh out loud from the other side of the room. 

“Wake me up when dinner’s ready!” The dark skinned boy calls, collapsing on the ratty old couch that was crowded around an unused fireplace. 

Niall closes his eyes, sighing as he takes in the familiar smell of that has become _home_. Harry wraps his arms around the blonde, resting his head on Niall’s shoulder and inhaling the boy’s scent, humming in satisfaction as he nuzzles into the irish boy’s neck lovingly. 

“Haz,” Niall says softly, gripping onto the strong arms around his waist, attempting to comfort the older boy. “I’m okay, yeah?” He tries, turning in Harry’s arms and raising on his tip-toes to rest his forehead against Harry’s. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I scared me too. I just… I wanted to help.” Niall answers, making Harry shake his head.

“Don’t do that ever again.” He says, making Niall laugh, pulling away from the brunette and smack the ginning boy lightly. “I understand you, baby, alright? Just know… if you ever, and I mean _ever_ , leave this place on your own or put yourself in danger again? You don’t be able to sit for a month. A year, probably.” Harry warns and Niall shudders, nodding in understanding. 

“I love you.” Niall murmurs as he hugs his boyfriend tightly and Harry sighs hard, trying his best to control his emotions as he grips Niall just as tightly.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Walker = zombie
> 
> Lol accidentally turned Harry into Daryl Dixon oops. Also I think I want to write a prequel/sequel/maybe even a story to this bc I really enjoyed it. I'd love to hear if anyone else would want me to continue ;) 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, comments and kudos mean the world!


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